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they’re not all bad…


Celebrities often forget that being famous doesn’t mean you’re good at everything. So it’s not surprising that some of our most praised and self-obsessed, thinking they had something deep to say, have tested the waters of poetry.

As you might expect, the poetry “establishment”–primarily the poets and critics that orbit and inhabit academia–doesn’t welcome celebs with open arms. In some cases, it won’t even acknowledge their existence. The Poetry Foundation’s Best Sellers list, for example, refuses to include celebrities. Elitism? In part. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard accomplished poets like Billy Collins–a former poet laureate for God’s sake–get ripped for being too readable. It’s also jealousy and frustration: if you’d worked a lifetime on your craft only to get outsold by Jewel–by about a million copies–you’d understand. And finally–let’s be honest–celebrity poems can be really, really bad.

the article continues


fromWarmed by Love” by Leonard Nimoy…

Rocket ships
Are exciting
But so are roses
On a birthday

Computers are exciting
But so is a sunset

And logic
Will never replace

Sometimes I wonder
Where I belong
In the future
In the past

I guess I’m just
An old-fashioned

a couple rhymers by Charlie Sheen…


Teacher, teacher, I don’t understand,
You tell me it’s like the back of my hand.
Should I play guitar and join the band?
Or head to the beach and walk in the sand?
Oh, teacher, teacher, I don’t understand…

… Teacher, teacher, the years have passed,
I never thought it would go so fast,
The things I learned they didn’t last.
I’m headin’ to sea as I raise the mast.
Oh, teacher, teacher, I’m a peace of your past.

A Goat In My Ass

There’s a goat in my ass,
Living mainly on grass.
They say the creature was stolen,
yet he feeds on my colon.

I don’t know how it got there,
As I burp up an occasional hair.
Often times I’ll sit and stare,
And drop pellets from my underwear.

Oh, these feelings may pass,
This wondrous goat,
In my ass.

and a bit from “Touch Me” by Suzanne Somers

Organic girl dropped by last night
For nothing in particular
Except to tell me again how beautiful and serene she feels
On uncooked vegetables and wheat germ fortified by bean sprouts–

Mixed with yeast and egg whites on really big days–
She not only meditates regularly, but looks at me like I should
And lectures me about meat and ice cream
And other aggressive foods I shouldn’t eat.

and another

If anyone has any extra love
Even a heartbeat
Or a touch or two
I wish they wouldn’t waste it on dogs.

Kristen Wiig with a terrific rendition of a few Somers classics…


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